Amour Aimer Aime Amour
by QueenAzule
Summary: Draco and Harry are finally reunited after two long years. Now they're going to get married. This follows them through the long and trying months before them. M to be safe. Sequel to Hope and Harebrained Schemes. Drarry and Ron/Hermione.
1. Just Like Magic

A/N: So, HI! When I finished Hope and Harebrained Schemes, I felt like Harry and Draco weren't done. They've still got a whole life ahead of them, and a whole world to face. And I knew it wouldn't be easy. So I'm writing more. I hope you like it. I'm not JKR or anything similar and I don't own anything.

Draco pulled Harry by his hand into the flat Draco'd bought when he'd landed. The sparks erupting from his hand felt just like magic. The way Harry looked bemused, happy, exhausted and intensely beautiful all at the same time felt like fate.

"This is where I've been existing," says Draco, looking around the flat, seeing it through his eyes. It's terribly neat- not a thing out of place. And the sheets on the twin bed are green. But the walls are the deepest burgundy Draco could find, and the bathroom, visible through the open door, is in gold. He looks over at Harry, trying to see his reaction. Harry's smile is huge across his face, slightly misused, but the light is back in his eyes now. Draco smiled as well, dropping Harry's hand to cross to the dresser.

"You look exhausted," he says, trying not to let his voice shake as he rifles through clothes, trying to find some that'll fit Harry. Harry sighs, and Draco hears the bed creak as the other man sinks down onto it.

"I am. Ever since your Patronus found me, I've been flying basically nonstop, except when I kipped in a field somewhere. Going over the ocean was the scariest." There's a small pause, then- "I know I'm ruining some sort of a moment, and I'm sorry- do you have food?"

Draco laughs as the awkwardness is broken. "Yeah, pantry just through the kitchen. And here-" He turns and quickly lobs some clothes. Harry catches them with a Seeker's unerring grace. "For pyjamas."

Harry gives him a broad smile, winking as he waltzes into the kitchen. Draco lets his breath out in a rush, and collapses on the bed, his leather jacket twisting uncomfortably under him. _Harry. _It's so surreal to see him _there, _with the smile and the laugh and the warmth. It's the most beautiful form of confusion Draco's had yet.

But they've changed.

Draco can tell that Harry's been through a lot. So has he. He tried at another relationship a year ago, just to make sure Harry was the one, and ended it after a week, because Harry is. He's gotten used to being on his own. He can speak fluent French. He can even cook now, something he couldn't do in the before. And now they have to discover all of the new ways they fit together. They're no longer schoolboys. They're- they're _fiancés, _an alien concept to Draco, but a happy one.

"Draco?"

He gets up, slinging the jacket over a chair before walking into the kitchen. Harry's at his small, two-person table, shoveling down some bread and cheese, an unbitten apple next to him.

"Yes?" Draco sits down across from Harry. The other man smiles, sheepishly, brushing too-long hair from his face with his free hand. He swallows hugely, and then says,

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were real." He reaches across the table to take Draco's hand, thumb brushing over it familiarly. Draco smiles at him fondly.

"I've been thinking the same thing."

They gaze at each other a while, Draco losing himself in Harry's eyes. They're green- but not quite green. They're sort of- forest. And all the shadows that happen in forests. And the patches of light. And Draco leans across the table to press his lips to Harry's again, just because he can.

Harry tastes like cheese.

Draco pulls back, running his tongue over his lips and smiling.

"Come to bed, it's late," he says, and gets back up to get into his own pyjamas. (Sleeping in jeans irritates his skin.) He can hear the clink of plates in the sink through the bathroom door, and he comes out with his shirt off because he doesn't want Harry to feel like he's avoiding him, and also to show off what he looks like without the scars. He'd found this amazing Muggle remedy for the scar tissue shortly before he started dating Tim, and had made use of it. He's kept just one scar right over one of his hip-bones, to remind him that he can make it through anything with a bit of help.

When he looks up, Harry's staring at him transfixed. Draco does a little twirl, heart pounding in his chest.

"Well?"

Harry walks toward him, stretching a hand out as if he's afraid to touch, and it's actually Draco who has to step to him, feeling his calloused hand on his chest. His heart rate increases exponentially, but he holds still as Harry moves closer, both hands moving around to his back. Then Harry looks up with a wicked grin.

"Did you think I wasn't attracted to you before?" he says. Draco flushes, but laughs anyway.

"I just wanted them gone. Well, mostly-" and he pulls his waistband down a little to show the scar on his hip, and did Harry's breath just hitch or is he imagining-

"Don't _do _that," says Harry breathlessly. "I don't think I can handle it-"

Draco smiles but settles the waistband back into place. Harry lets out a small sigh, and disappears into the bathroom without a word. Draco smirks inwardly, pulling his shirt on and staring at the bed. _How exactly are we going to do this?_

When Harry comes out, it's almost a little more than he can stand, because Harry is _wearing his clothes _ and _in his room _and he's just as gorgeous as Draco remembers. Harry stares at the bed as well.

Then back at Draco.

"Shall we?"

It takes a bit of arranging, but eventually Harry (who's still smaller than Draco, but broader across the shoulders) ends up spooned up against him, hands wrapping around Draco's arms. They just barely fit on the bed, and Draco's pressed against the wall, but it feels better than either of them have felt in a while. Harry murmurs something, then he's out like a light, exhaustion taking its toll. Draco drops a kiss into his hair, heart swelling ridiculously.

So they're fiancés.

So they're getting married.

So he has Harry in his _bed._

Yes, Draco can get used to this also.

**S S S S S S S S **

Short, but I will continue it! This is going to be quite a bit longer than HAHS. I'm also thinking of making a thirdquel. Anyway, reviews are love, and thanks for sticking with me through fanfiction's long absence.


	2. Who Says it Has to Be Morning?

When Harry opens his eyes, it's to the golden French sunlight coming in through the window behind the bed, lighting Draco from behind. His shirt rode up in his sleep, just a little, and it's really quite amazing what a few inches of skin can do to Harry's heart rate. Slowly, so as not to wake him, Harry slides gently out of his arms, and turns around to gaze at the boy he's missed so desperately.

He's still thin- slender, really, with delicate high cheekbones and thin fingers. His hair has gotten lighter than Harry thought possible, with just a hint of cornsilk blond to give it its tint. His lips are slightly parted and he looks like an angel.

It has been a long two years since Harry watched him disappear into the clouds.

It started off like an actual physical pain- he'd turn to tell Draco a joke or make a remark and he wouldn'tbe there. Or Ron and Hermione would go off and he'd be alone. And then Snape killed Dumbledore, and- it just all fell to shit and he just wanted someone to hold, and someone to hold him. When he'd gone to Ron's that summer, he had constantly wondered how Draco was, where he was, what he was doing. He'd carried Draco's wand with him constantly. (The other boy had left it in the red room, and Harry thought he'd want it back.) Through the long months of camping, it had gone into a constant dull ache, sort of like missing a limb. He hadn't realized how vital Draco was to him until he was gone. Every night he replayed the dance and the goodbye and all the months before that in his head, and realized how incredibly thick he had been. He'd always paid attention to Draco. They could have had months, years even, if only Harry had just realized sooner.

In the whole extremely long camping trip, Harry's heart was broken in innumerable ways as his friends drew away from him, physically and mentally, and he'd find himself visualizing Draco, having whole mental conversations with him. He realized that that was probably odd, and a little scary. But it had helped him deal with Hermione, and it had helped him to understand Ron. And it had lessened the ache a little bit.

It had probably been after he'd killed Voldemort that he'd started thinking of marrying Draco. It all had to do with the amount of media exposure he'd been getting- there was a camera or reporter on him at all times of the day except bathroom breaks and when he was sleeping in the securest room that the Ministry's Aurors could afford. As a result, he got a lot of news.

"Mr. Potter, how do you feel about the situation in Albania?"

"Harry, how do you feel about Puddlemere's winning streak?"

"Mister Potter, what are your thoughts on gay marriage?"

It had just not occurred to him that he and Draco _could _get married, and suddenly it was on his mind all the time. How Draco'd look walking down the aisle. Their outfits. Waking up beside him every morning. Cooking breakfast. Maybe even kids, in the house they'd share. The more he thought about it, the more it appealed to him. He felt a sort of _right _with Draco. He doubted he'd ever feel it with anyone else. In fact, he was sure.

So when finally, he could leave England with the new Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, appointed, he'd started asking around. Of course, nobody had heard about a smallish blond boy, and he couldn't risk media exposure. It was exhausting. Ron and Hermione often tried to coax him out of Grimmauld Place, which he'd viciously started to clean.

"You look pale, mate, you should go outside."

"Harry, are you sure you're taking good care of yourself? You look like you're not getting much sleep."

And he wasn't. Draco haunted his dreams, walking hand and hand down the street with another guy, getting married to another guy, or languishing away in a corner somewhere while former Death Eaters tortured him. Even dead. Harry was getting more terrified by the day.

So when, in the middle of the night, a silver lion had appeared in his room, he'd started crying in relief. He was still crying as he threw his most essential belongings into a knapsack and gotten onto his broom. The wind had whipped the tears away as he flew. And he thought about Draco, about this heavenly creature that was sleeping in front of him now. He'd flown for three days nonstop over the ocean, collapsing half-dead in a field somewhere, begging the lion to wait as he slept. When he woke up, he ate as quickly as he could and kept going, determined to see Draco. It had been two years too long.

When he'd finally touched down in the field outside a small, unrecognizable town, he almost couldn't walk. He kept thinking of microphones and weddings and campfires in an unintelligible blur. When he'd seen Draco, he almost hadn't recognized him in a leather jacket and jeans in the dimming light.

He'd gone closer, trying to get a better look. Draco had reached out to him, with the same long fingers, touching his shoulder.

"…Harry?"

He hadn't been able to stop himself. He'd started crying and gone to hold him at the same time, saying his name over and over again. He'd been scared, so scared that he wouldn't recognize Draco. But it was him, it was him, after all this time and he wasn't dead and he had waited for him and oh, he was _here, _and there was just one thing Harry wanted after all those months alone in a gray house.

"Draco, I love you." Just to make sure he knew. By the little hitch in the other boy's breathing, it had been what he wanted to hear. It heartened Harry enough to continue. "Marry me."

He'd meant it to be a question but it came out an order. He'd waited with bated breath for the swift reply. A soft hand had come up to cup the side of his face, like he had before the kiss in the forest.

"I swear on my magic I'll marry you."

And his heart had leapt. He'd pressed their foreheads together, somehow sinking into the chest-high grass. They'd breathed together, eyes locked, hands clasped. Draco suddenly smiled.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he'd kept saying into the quiet, and Harry just couldn't take it, it was too much. He kissed him, letting the fireworks go off. And suddenly, it was all right.

When they'd finally recovered enough to get up and go to Draco's flat, the stars had been out in full. Harry had found himself unable not to have skin contact with Draco at pretty much all times. And here he was, with the man of his dreams sleeping in front of him.

There was no way he could be real.

Harry Potter was not a lucky man.

Draco stirred a little. "Harry…" he mumbled, his hands groping at the air. Harry was on his feet and over to him in seconds, before he even opened his eyes.

"Good morning," he said, smoothing Draco's hair out of his face (and practically pissing himself at the fact he could do that now, whenever he wanted, however much he wanted). He wanted to add "beautiful", and so he did. Draco gripped at his shoulders, pulling him back down to bed.

"Who said it had to be morning yet?"

They lay pressed together on the bed, hands clasped, legs entangled. Draco was silent for a while, just breathing with his eyes closed. Then-

"I missed you," he said.

"I missed you more."

"…."

"…."

"…."

"… thank you for finding me."

Draco presses a finger to his lips. His heart speeds up, but Draco merely says, "No thank yous. No thank yous, ever. I love you. I don't need a better thank you than you loving me back."

Harry is speechless at the simplicity. Draco smiles lazily. "I've had a lot of time to think."

Harry pushes his face closer to Draco's on the pillow, still reveling in the fact that someone can be so incredibly _attractive _in both mind and body. He presses a kiss to his forehead. And then they both drift into a drowsy state, entangled in the too-small bed. It's a while later that Harry gets up again, murmuring to Draco to stay in bed. He retrieves an object from his knapsack before ordering Draco to close his eyes.

"Harry, you know I don't like surprise-"

There is a sudden shocked silence, and Draco looks as if he's just been reunited with something precious to him. Carefully he runs his fingers over the object, and Harry smiles.

"Oh, Harry…"

Draco opens his eyes and looks down at his wand. With shaking fingers he gives it an experimental wave, and sparks fly out of the end. Then he looks directly at Harry, who's sitting smiling a few feet away.

"Expecto Patronum!"

The lion unfolds out of his wand this time, and pads around for a bit, nosing at Harry as if it can sense the memory that created it. Slowly it dissipates, and Draco stares at Harry in amazement.

"Alright, okay, come here and let me kiss you."

Harry smiles and willingly goes.

It's a while before they get out of bed again.

**S S S S S S S S S S S S S**

Short, again, but I promise there'll be more moving forward the next chapter! I just really quick wanted to post something else. What do you think? R&R is love.


	3. Letting the World In

**A Week Later**

The sun is shining brightly as two men walk hand and hand down the streets of Chanson Priar, wandering towards both the post office and their dinner date. It has been exactly one week from when Harry crash-landed in the meadow. One whole week since the first time they saw each other for two years.

Things really don't get much better than this.

For three days they didn't venture outside the flat. Instead, they cooked for each other (well, Draco cooked, Harry complimented) and told stories and did a lot of kissing and hid from the world. Draco told the story of his two years, and the year and a half he'd been living comfortably in Chanson Priar. He didn't omit the man he'd briefly dated. He wanted this relationship to have no secrets. Harry told him the story of Voldemort's death, tiredly relating the statistics of the battle while wrapped securely in Draco's arms. Using their wands and drawing on their magic, they painted the walls, making them theirs rather than Draco's. Draco couldn't help but feel like the things he visualized that day on the lake were coming true. He could never in a million years thank Hermione enough.

And of course, they talked in that week. They talked _a lot. _

Draco had caught Harry staring at him as they lounged in comfortable silence in front of the window, eating fruit taken from the tree just outside the flat.

"What?" he'd asked, brushing some hair out of his eyes. He hadn't even gelled it today. Harry said he liked it soft.

"I was just thinking of the time I nearly killed you in the bathroom."

Draco winced and closed his eyes. Harry's warm, dry hand covered his own protectively. "Not like that! I was just thinking how it was the beginning of all this."

Draco started, because he'd been thinking of beginnings as well. "What do you mean?"

Harry smiled, closing his eyes and tilting back onto two legs of his chair.

"Did I ever tell you about the Marauder's Map?" Draco shook his head. Harry smiled. "Well, it's this enchanted map of Hogwarts, where you can see where people go. You were acting so funny the beginning of sixth year, and I had a broken nose that I wanted avenged- no, don't apologize, you love me, remember? But anyway, I thought you were up to something fishy. So I kept following you around on that map. And I tracked you to the bathroom. When I hurt you- It- I don't know, I felt bad. Really bad. Like I'd kicked a puppy or something." Harry concluded his little speech with a sigh, "Then Hermione started dating you, and hurting you accidentally made me more open. I guess I'm just ridiculously lucky, hmm?"

"Only as lucky as I am," said Draco, smiling back. Then he'd dragged Harry's face to his by the other man's shirt, and they'd gone back to bed.

And now here they were, letters to friends in their hands, to use the old fashioned Muggle post. Neither of them have owls, and anyway, it'll give them more time before they have to go back and face the world. As it turns out, people in Chanson Priar are pretty accepting of gay people. (Honestly, they just couldn't be bothered to hate much. They don't get much exposure to hate anyway.) Harry is finding this a nice reprieve. In Britain, especially around the older people, he has to be very careful of hugging men, even though practically none attract him. People are a bit fussy back home.

When they reach the post office, Draco takes the lead, being the only person Harry knows in the immediate vicinity that can speak French. (Harry's French sounds like gargling marbles. Fleur would wince.)

"Bonjour, Amerie…"

Harry watches fondly as the French pours forth from Draco's lips. At one point, Amerie points at him, and he tries to smile winningly. She asks something in French to Draco, and he smiles. Harry knows enough French to know the two things Draco says in response.

"Il est mon ami. Est.. est mon fiancé."

Amerie smiles and claps her hands before chattering excitedly. Harry walks forward to gently ask for a translation, running a hand around Draco's back.

"She wants us to have the wedding here. It's not a bad idea, actually- she'd do the flowers. Ce serait bien, Amerie!"

It's a few more minutes before they can extract themselves from Amerie's exuberant congratulations and move on to their dinner date with Draco's friend. The journey to her house is quiet, but Harry's thinking. When he asked Draco to marry him, he hadn't pictured the actual marriage, per se. More so he had pictured what they'd be like when they were married.

Well, shit. He was going to have to talk to Hermione about her wedding, which was coming up in a year. How did two men _do _weddings, anyway? Harry scratches the back of his head with the hand that's not holding Draco's.

"What's wrong?" asks Draco, but Harry merely smiles and shakes his head. Draco smirks, but lets it lie, instead leading him into a small street with a single gate laid into a wall.

"This is where she lives," he says, before just opening the gate and barging in with a cheerful "Bonjour, Jaqueline!"

"Drake, mon ami!" came a clear, high voice from the direction of the kitchen. "Ici!"

"She's in the kitchen," translated Draco unnecessarily. He noticed Harry hanging back a bit. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"She's going to be okay with us?" Harry paused, then flushed a bit as he realized Draco had used a pet name for him.

"Yeah, just remember to call me Drake, alright? You can be- you'll be- well, you'll just be Harry Potter, there's no disguising you." Draco deposited a quick kiss on Harry's scar. "Now come on in."

Harry sighed but followed Draco into a small but messy apartment. Through the disarray of the small living room there was a bright and cheery kitchen, and in front of the stove there was a willowy blonde Frenchwoman, who turned and offered a slender hand, tugging at her apron strings.

"Est-ce lui?" she asked of Draco, before abruptly switching to broken English. "Hello, welcome. You are Drake's man?"

The way she said it made Harry catch his breath. Nobody in Britain would ever ask such a thing outright. But-

"Yes, I'm Drake's man," he said, squeezing Draco's hand. "My name's Harry. Harry Potter."

"Enchante," pronounced Jaqueline. "Please, sit. Dinner will be ready soon."

With almost obvious relief, she switched back into French for a brief conversation with Draco, quickly tossing some vegetables into the light stew that was wafting into the air. Draco answered, but a comfortable silence fell. Harry turned to him.

"I-" but Draco pressed a finger to his lips.

"I already know," he said with a small, wry twist to his mouth. _There are rough roads ahead. _He'd known the moment they emerged from the flat for the first time. For some reason, love is never quiet. It calls to be known. And the knowing of love, while wonderful, is always dangerous.

Draco knew all this, so he just motioned Harry to enjoy the time they had left.

**S S S S S S S S S S **

An owl tapped at the window impatiently. Draco stirred from where he was curled, half-naked, in Harry's arms.

"The world's coming," he said sleepily, cupping a hand on Harry's jawline. Harry moaned directly into Draco's chest, making his heart flutter pleasantly and bringing a flush to his cheeks. Sighing, Draco shoved gently at Harry, reaching for the latch on the window.

"Waaaaait," said Harry, straddling him. Draco lost his breath for a second. But Harry didn't try anything in front of the owl- he just brought Draco's face to his and kissed him deeply, running his tongue over the inside of his mouth. Harry smiled breathlessly when they broke apart. "Fine, okay, now we can let the world in."

Draco flipped the latch and let their vacation come to an end.

**S S S S S S S S S S S S**

Stormy waters ahead! I'm not JKR and I don't own anything. Reviews are love, and thanks for reading!


	4. It's Time

The two men stand in the meadow where they met again at dawn, with only Jaqueline, a trunk, and Harry's broom for company. There are many tearful goodbyes from Draco to Jaqueline, even though they'll be back as soon as they've seen everyone. She beckons to Harry just as they get ready to go.

"Drake is precious, no?" she asks Harry, eyes firm and unwavering on his. "Do not hurt him. But do not be afraid to touch him. It was good to meet you, Harry Potter."

Harry shakes her hand gently, taking her words and storing them away for future perusal. With that, Jaqueline deposits a quick kiss on his cheek and one on both of Draco's. She then turns and walks away, receding into the dawn at Chanson Priar. Draco heaves a soft sigh.

"Come on, it's time to go."

He loops a hand through Harry's elbow as they walk farther into the chest-high grasses, leaving quite a large dent where Draco's trunk is dragging behind them. When they've gone down the dip in the hill so the town is no longer visible, Harry turns to Draco.

"Are you ready?"

"Only if you are," says Draco, searching his face. They've talked long and hard about this. But Harry knows just as well as Draco does that they have to go back. There's a house and a sick Arthur Weasley and Hermione and Ron and the Ministry and the Press, all wondering where Harry Potter is.

Harry lays down his broom and gestures to the ground for a moment, trying to allow himself just one more moment. Draco watches him as he sits down and closes his eyes, tilting his head so the sun catches his face through the grass. His eyes are drawing away again, like he had when he dropped into the meadow. He doesn't think this is a good thing for Harry at all. But they do have to go. And at least they'll have each other, always. Harry vowed never to ever be separated from Draco when they were back in London, and Draco will hold him to it. He's grown accustomed to being alone and peaceful. The city is anything but.

Draco gets down on his knees, pressing his hands to Harry's knobbly kneecaps. The other man opens his eyes.

"I love you, you know," says Draco, leaning into Harry's face, catching those beautiful green eyes. They light up again. The former Slytherin smiles. He leans farther forward so their lips are a hairsbreadth apart. "And I think it's time the world knew, hmm?" he purrs. He can almost feel Harry smile in the minimalistic space between their mouths.

"Yeah, it's time," says Harry, "cos I love you too."

They share a long, deep kiss, coloured with the golden of the grass and the red of the dawn. Draco winds his hands into Harry's messy black hair, breathing desperately, greedily sliding his tongue to Harry's. The other man responds enthusiastically, knowing there will be precious few moments ahead for this. His hands find their way to Draco's chest. Draco gasps, digging his palms onto Harry's thighs. And then things just get really _warm. _

They're distinctly tattered a few minutes later when Draco pulls away, straightening his shirt from where it's come untucked. "We should, we should go," he says unsteadily, running his thumb over his lower lip where it's gone swollen.

"Yeah," says Harry, and his voice is husky with the wanting. Grimmauld Place seems too far away. The hotel they're going to seems too far away. Draco smiles, depositing another kiss on Harry's lips, before crawling to his feet in a way that makes Harry just want to pull him down again. But no, no- they do have to go.

Harry shrinks Draco's trunk, tucking it into his pocket. His Firebolt is now ages behind the broom technology, and he only rides it on special occasions, but he's glad he's brought it here. He thinks Sirius would approve of the Draco he's come to know intimately. Harry mounts up.

Draco looks with trepidation at the broom. It's been ages since he's flown, and he's never in his life flown double.

"Why don't we just Apparate?" he asks. Harry sighs- not angrily but with the sort of long-suffering air.

"I've been blocked as of a few months ago. I kept Apparating out of press conferences, remember?"

Draco laughs and mounts behind Harry, gripping at the broom. Harry turns around, eyeing the blonde.

"What in the hell are you doing?"

"We're flying, aren't we?"

Harry sighs good-naturedly, detaching the other man's hands from the broom and instead pulling them so they're wrapped around his waist, as he's seen Muggle bikers do. Abruptly Draco's legs are fitted up to his- his whole body is pressed to Harry's. It's not a new experience, but in the daylight it gives him even more of a jolt. He thinks briefly before he kicks off and starts heading in the direction of London that he's going to have to take Draco flying more often.

**S S S S S S S S S S**

When they touch down in the backyard of the Burrow a week and a day later, they're both wobbly-kneed, and Draco's drowsing against Harry's back. They both more or less fall off of the broom, tired and cold and very, very ready for bed.

"DRACO!" shrieks Hermione, whipping off her apron and flinging it onto a hedge as she races to one of her best friends. Ron follows at a slower rate, trying to hold his own fiancé back. Draco smiles and opens his arms for the woman he owes so much to. She barrels into his chest, knocking him flat onto his back.

Then, without preamble, both of them burst into tears.

When their respective lovers get them to their feet and into the kitchen, they start to sober, still propped against each other as they babble out accounts of the two years they spent apart. Ron and Harry are left to get out the food Hermione's feverishly been preparing for three days in Mrs. Weasley's absence (she's on a trip with Arthur at Bill and Fleur's, as Harry finds out). There's loads of it, but all four friends settle for sandwiches, leaving the real feasts till later. Draco and Hermione are basically joined at the hip, catching up without any room for either of their men. So, said men both crack open a butterbeer and go out to the back steps to do some catching up of their own.

"So where was he?" asks Ron. Harry shrugs.

"You know my French is bloody terrible, but he was in this little village, right- you can't even find the place unless you have a native guide. He'd been living there ever since, just alone."

"Merlin's socks, he really ran, didn't he?" asks Ron wonderingly, and Harry shrugs.

"He felt he did have to get away. And anyway, his mother _did _save my life. So it wasn't in vain, yeah?"

"Tell him that," says Ron. Both men drink their butterbeer in silence for a few moments before Harry decides that yes, okay, he doesn't know how comfortable Ron will be with it but he needs to tell him.

"We're, er… We're getting married. As soon as we can get it together. I'd, I'd like for you to be my best man."

Ron's eyes goggle out of his head. "You don't mean it?"

Harry sets down his beer and gives him a bit of a look.

"Well, yeah, I love him- why shouldn't we-"

"No! I mean, about the best man. Don't you reckon I'll knock something over or something?"

And Harry laughs at the prime example of his best friend being his best friend and assures him there's nobody else in the world he wants. When they hear a little shriek from inside, they know it's okay to go back.

"Must've shocked the hell out of Hermione," Ron says, laughing a bit as they walk in to find their fiancés laughing hysterically, Hermione in tears again and Draco hugging her.

It's ages before they get to bed, Draco eventually just drooping so much that Harry politely but firmly excuses them both to bed. Ron actually has to _carry _Hermione to his old room (even though they have a place of their own, they're taking care of the house). Harry considers doing the same, but Draco seems content to drape his long arms over the shorter man's shoulders, leaning heavily on him as they go to Ginny's old room- the only one that's still clean. Draco's trunk actually takes up most of the space in the room, and it smells like girl, but it has a bed which they collapse onto gratefully, peeling off their boots in tandem.

It's a double, but they curl into each other as if there's no space at all. Sleepily Draco tugs at Harry's shirt, pulling him closer. He clasps his hands to Harry's and drops off without a single word.

When Harry falls asleep a few minutes later, it's to the rhythm of Draco's breathing.

**S S S S S S S S**

The next morning dawns bright and early, but Draco and Harry don't rouse themselves from bed until almost noon. Draco dresses in some of his "good" clothes while Harry just dresses in his now-traditional red Henley and jeans. Both men take a few moments to lean into one another like they did on the broom and just breathe, relaxing after days of tense travel. Of course, the days ahead once the press finds out are going to be- well- loud. But for now, they can maybe catch up a bit to themselves.

Harry shows Draco down the staircases he knows so well. The blond is looking around as if he doesn't even know how the house is standing of its own accord, and Harry laughs watching him. It's only when Draco trails a hand over the wall as if he can't believe it stays up that Harry gives in to the overwhelming urge to snog him senseless.

"Hngh!" says Draco as he finds himself pressed against the wall, with Harry's tongue down his throat. Harry smiles and presses harder, bringing the scent of his boyfriend closer, closer- the smell of rain and sweet meadow grass and just a little bit of musky sandalwood. Draco goes liquid at his touch, slipping his hands under his shirt without further hesitation. And then- God, Harry can't believe it, Draco _hums_, high and breathy, and it's definitely not the time to go back to bed but that's all Harry wants to do.

Draco pushes Harry just a little bit so he can get up from where he's crushed up against the wall. He smooths his hair and drops another deep kiss onto his fiancé, then hisses, "Harry, you can't _do _that."

"Why?" says Harry, confusion evident on his face. "Did you not like-"

"No, no nonono," says Draco hastily, wrapping his arms around the other man, twining his hands in his hair. "I- shit, Harry, do you want me to have a boner at breakfast?"

"Wh- oh. _Oh."_

Draco presses just a little bit, and he's only half-hard, but yeah, that-

"We have to go eat now," says Draco firmly, pulling away with difficulty. "The night is always there anyway."

"But I want it now," whines Harry. He lets his voice drop about half an octave before leaning forward to whisper in his fiance's ear. "I want _you._"

Draco's breath hitches. It's not like they're not sexually active- far from it. They're about as touchy-feely as they can get. But- they've not actually- _done _it. And Harry's never talked like that before except when they're alone and in bed and Draco, yeah, okay, he really has to move away now, or he never will.

"Breakfast," says Draco firmly, but inside his stomach is filled with butterflies and oh god, it was true. He does want him. He wants him badly. But-

"Fine, breakfast."

**S S S S S S S S S S S S**

YOU GUYS I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SO SORRY. A lot of stuff came up and I only had this half done and I just couldn't post it in the condition it was in. I promise I'll do better in the future, and thanks for sticking with me. I'm still not JKR.

Love,

QueenAzule


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